melt
by civillove
Summary: i don't know what this is, i was watching the last episode of the flash and I thought this scene needed to be in here. so missing scene (i guess?) from 1.11. first time writing snowbarry *whines*


Caitlin Snow has always prided herself on being an organized person. Calm, calculated, resting in the linear lines of how she conducts herself, how science is predictable. Her plans have backups, her escape routes have their own built in escape routes—she likes knowing how she gets from point A to C and what lies in-between. People have called her cold and maybe she can be, but she'd rather be perceived as cold and strategic than soft around the edges and feel like everything can spin out of control in the blink of an eye. She has structured walls that were built over time with solid designs and the only person who's ever managed to take a few bricks out and send them crumbling down was Ronnie.

Someone who she can barely think about now without a painful ache throbbing behind her sternum with every pump of her heart. Not _once_ did Caitlin ever consider that discovering he was alive would feel worse than when he was gone. So many nights she had sat up in an empty bed, in an empty apartment, with an empty heart and just try to make it to one second of the day where she felt okay. Seeing Ronnie again…it's like a wound she's worked so hard to heal has been ripped wide open; gaping and jagged, prone to infections.

What's probably the most ironic part of this whole thing is _that_ feeling, the one that constantly seems like an open wound, _that_ is almost comforting. She feels like she's embracing an old part of herself that she thought was lost. She's used to hurt, she's used to pain; grasps right onto it again like ice clutching onto tree branches with the first frost.

She's guarded and closed off all over again, those lines and calculations and assured dependability wrap around her like a shield. The remaining walls she has rebuild and new ones are created in wake of the old.

Caitlin's heels click noisily against the tile as she looks over Cisco's chart and his injuries from the explosion. She runs a gentle hand through his hair and lets out a short breath, closing her eyes a moment. This could have been a lot worse. He may still be unconscious but according to her tests and scans he has no internal bleeding, broken bones or any other prominent injuries that would force her to suggest they admit him to the hospital. Bumps and bruises and one hell of a headache when he wakes up.

She fixes his IV drip and combs a hand through her own curls before writing down a note and setting the chart aside. She feels like she's should have seen this coming; Hartley while brilliant was crude and brash a majority of the time she worked with him—of course he'd be ten times that while trying to enact a plot of revenge.

"I'm not made of glass." Caitlin says as she turns around and sees Barry standing there, sheepishly pushing his hands into the pockets of his gray jeans before giving her a smile.

"I just figured," He says, his voice soft and melodic as he takes a step towards her. "You've had more than enough people sneaking up on you today." He smirks gently, looking at Cisco before back at her. "Is he—"

"He'll be fine." She assures him, crossing her arms over her chest. "He's lucky."

Barry hovers near the bed a moment before moving to stand directly in front of her, his head tilted in a way that sort of reminds her of a confused puppy. "And you?"

She smiles, touched by his concern but gently waves him off. "I'm fine, too." Caitlin curls her soft brown hair around her ear, chewing on her lower lip as she remembers turning around, seeing Hartley, barely able to get a word out before he backhanded her across the face.

Barry catches her by surprise by reaching to cup her cheek, his thumb brushing over her bruised cheekbone. She winces and pulls back from him, her hand resting on his forearm.

"That doesn't look fine."

"Are you a doctor now?" She teases gently, making him let out a breathy laugh.

"Maybe someone should take care of _you_ for a change." Barry scrunches his nose at her, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth against her will. It hurts her cheekbone, to smile like that, but somehow it's all worth it to see the way his eyes light up at making her do so.

Those bright, green eyes, the color of emeralds are something she finds herself wanting to dive into sometimes. Barry has just…taken everyone by surprise, herself more than most. Not because of his powers or his bravery or blatant desire to be more than he claims to be—but because he's so warm, and open, sweet and _genuine._ She's almost taken aback by him, she's not used to it. Not since Ronnie. Not since she's closed off that part of her life, boxed it up, shoved it into a closet in her mind that she doesn't check in on anymore. Allows dust to gather.

"Come on, let me look at it." He prompts gently, a tad bit insistent but leaving her more than enough room to decline if she really wants to. Barry motions to another examination table in the corner of the room, tucked close to a set of monitors. "Are you afraid I'll develop a better bedside manner than you, Doctor Snow?"

Caitlin laughs, her head tipping towards the ceiling as she follows him. "You're about to become your own doctor if you don't hush." She hops up onto the table, her hands splaying on the cold metal along either side of her. "I'd love to see you try and patch _yourself_ up the next time a meta-human brings in a welcome party."

Barry smiles, her eyes drawn to the freckles that speckle along his cheekbones before he's gone and back in a second, her hair flipping over her shoulders in a gust of air. She lets out a short breath, rolling her eyes as she pats down her soft curls, looking down at the icepack in his hand.

"Is this really necessary?"

Barry hums, cupping her face again to tilt her chin towards the light. Her stomach flutters at the warmth of his palm, seeping through her pores.

"Is all the work you do while patching me up really necessary with my accelerated healing?" He quirks, poking fun at a conversation they've had many too times before.

"Disinfecting is important." She mumbles, making him smirk fondly.

She avoids the longing gaze she can feel boring into her face, her eyelashes kissing her cheekbones as Barry's thumb once again runs over the bruise. It doesn't hurt as much as last time, it's really nothing compared to what Cisco has gone through, but all these words that somehow stack up against her ribcage she can't get to leave her voice box for the life of her.

The silence stretches between them, they live in the seconds between heartbeats and the throbs of the clock on the wall in the background. Barry squeezes the icepack, breaking the cooling reaction and shaking the bag lightly before lifting it to press against her face.

Caitlin closes her eyes, Barry's one hand that was on her cheek moving to rest against her neck, long piano fingers brushing against the nape.

His hands are so warm and he smells like coffee, probably from too many hours spent in Jitters. Her other senses kick into overdrive as she focuses on noises and sensations with her vision dark. She can feel the pulse in Barry's hand, can pick up the hints of his leveled, calm breathing, can almost feel the heat of his body kissing her skin from their close proximity.

Warms her core, a place she's always been cold.

"I'm sorry I wasn't here." Barry says suddenly, breaking the silence. Her caramel colored eyes open to look up at him. "I should have been."

She shakes her head, her hand coming up to rest against his wrist. Her thumb traces the tree of blue veins that she can feel poking through his skin. "Don't do that," Caitlin says gently, tilting her head a little until their eyes meet. "You can't apologize for things that happen that are out of your control. You're far too skinny to be resting all that guilt on your shoulders," She teases, her one hand moving to squeeze his side. "You'll snap like a toothpick."

Caitlin knows he's ticklish there, has seen him jerk a bit if she's ever dabbing wounds with disinfectant, right between his third and fourth rib. Right _there._ She presses her thumb in, a squawking noise instantly leaving Barry's mouth as he moves out of her grasp. His hand falls from her face and he also drops the icepack onto the floor, but her face is feeling a lot better anyways, a mischievous grin spreading across her lips as blush tints Barry's cheeks.

"Are you _ticklish,_ Barry Allen?"

"No." He insists but his shoulders tense and his fingers fold into his palms every so often like he's preparing himself to thwart Caitlin's attacks.

Which is a pretty smart move.

She reaches for him and his reaction time isn't as fast as she figures it should be, her hands manage to wrap ahold of his waist and she tugs him forward, off balance, and digs her fingers in. A squeaking noise leaves Barry's throat and he's stuck between her hands for a matter of two seconds before he zips right out of her grasp. He's moving too fast that she can't touch him but she guesses that's not exactly the point. She smirks as he bounces around the lab in a streak of yellow, appearing for a moment behind her to tickle her sides, then beside her to do it again, and again, until her giggles are echoing against the high ceiling.

"Stop!" Caitlin finally says as he appears in front of her, her hands grabbing onto him innocently.

Barry takes a step forward and allows her to hold onto him, looking down at her with a fond grin. He reads her mind as she moves one of her hands to deliver a final blow, simply maneuvering her arm gently behind her. The action pins her to his chest but she's surprisingly not uncomfortable, even with their proximity leaving no space between them.

She's still smiling, bright and easy up at him. Barry looks at her a moment, his eyes are softer somehow, the color of summer leaves hit with sunshine instead of a dark pine. They're thoughtful, less burdened with guilt, affectionate maybe, concerned definitely.

He _cares_ about her, she realizes.

His eyes search hers before he leans down and presses a gentle kiss to her hairline, his breath speckling against her forehead as he speaks. "I'm glad you're okay."

Caitlin looks up at him with a gentle smile, her one hand that's still on his waist rubbing gently, pressured strokes to say things her words can't.

The thing about ice, however, is that no matter how harsh and unforgiving it appears to be if you hold it too close for too long

it melts.


End file.
